


Sehnsucht

by elanorofcastile



Category: Atomic Blonde (2017)
Genre: Alternate Spelling - James Gascoine, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Light BDSM, M/M, Power Dynamics, Pre-Canon, Smoking, implied animal death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 12:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13053693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elanorofcastile/pseuds/elanorofcastile
Summary: "So, what did you find in Gascoine's apartment?""Some Deutsche Marks, empty passports, travel visas and a picture of the two of you together a few years back.""Did I not mention that we were friends?""No.""No? No, I must have forgot to."





	Sehnsucht

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BiffElderberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiffElderberry/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, biffelderberry, I hope you enjoy this gift for you! I took your allowance that you were okay with something a bit different than your prompt and ran with your kinks on a bit of an adventure for our boys. I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope that it is fun for you to read.
> 
> All my thanks to my fabulous beta xtinethepirate. She helped steer the ship on the right course. 
> 
> 'Gascoine' spelling used throughout the movie (versus Gasciogne in the credits), so was used here.
> 
> Title from Sehnsucht by Einstürzende Neubauten

If anyone asked Percival, he'd been station head as soon as he'd arrived; it had just taken a few years for the paperwork to get it right, and the words on his file to be corrected. The BER-1s he'd started under had been such useless alkies, after all, cycling out as the city worked its magic on anyone who didn't love her. 

The shine quickly wore off the nobility of the work, like snow going gray in a filthy city after the first few moments of sparkling beauty. Percival learned every grimy corner, every person weak for money or a handjob, and learned to listen to what was between their words for the information he really cared about. As the work dulled, losing that sparkle of the boyhood adventure novel, Percival started his own game, trying it on with each new British agent that made their way to Berlin. Either they took the bait and he had a decent fuck, or he learned enough about them otherwise to hold power over them otherwise. It was no secret that half of the people in the service were gay (the better to live a convincing lie) so it was always reasonable to try and feel out what the hidden vice was from your coworkers -- cock, coke, or clear liquor. Lucky for Percival, he liked all three.

But things had finally started going his way with runs, and the paperwork had finally gone through. Once the previous BER-1 was wrapped up and shipped off to dry out back at a desk in London and Percival was officially made head of station, he received, well, the best present he could have wished for to celebrate: a fucking gorgeous BER-2. Some nonsense in Istanbul and the home office thought it was time to send James Gascoine to Berlin. 

Percival knew enough to be careful and feel him out, but from the look of the man it wasn't drink or drugs that had chased him from Istanbul, and Percival had always found that cock was a good way to forget a woman. He'd had some enjoyable fucks with flexible Frogs over his years here, but there was something that a British public school upbringing imparted in a person that just was… _inspired_ in bed. Percival laid some groundwork with casual touches and veiled language as Gascogne settled in, learned a bit of the land, but the man was inscrutable. Even after a few months had passed and Percival had gotten to know Gascoine enough to know that he was a careful man and good on the ground, he still didn‘t know much else about him. Subtlety not his strong point when it came to sex, Percival decided to lean hard on the point on the pretense of testing Gascoine's reflexes and language skills while drunk, and so took him to one of the bars he'd enjoyed on Oranienstraße. 

The music was loud enough that they had to shout at each other to be heard, even pressed close against the bar. Percival matched Gascoine drink for drink, frustration making him actually drink instead of letting the ice melt and dilute the alcohol, cataloguing his reactions to see if he could find a gap in Gascoine's armor. The other patrons slid by them in differing degrees of undress and the bartenders wore varying amounts of leather and PVC, but Gascoine's cheeks didn‘t flush; he kept up the small talk with Percival effortlessly, and didn‘t do more than flash a smile at the bartender in response to his flirtation. The only give away Percival could see was a delicious flush creeping up his throat from the alcohol. It was impressive, Gascoine's steadiness. Percival was internally disappointed, but he supposed it just proved Gascoine worth as a spy. Istanbul must have been a fucking mess to have sent him away.

"Come on, then, pick someone and tell me their life story." Percival lit a cigarette and had the bartender pour him another measure of whiskey. He drained half the glass as he turned to survey the rest of the room, looking away when he met the eyes of someone who had fucked him to an unsatisfying orgasm a few weeks back. No desire for a repeat performance with that one.

Gascoine laughed low at the order, drinking a gin and tonic like a good English boy, and leaned in to be heard but not overheard as he spoke. "Are you sure? You seem to know them all well enough. Wouldn't want to leave a bad taste in your mouth."

Percival bared his teeth a bit at that, tsking. "Don't be a tease, or I'll have to tell all the girls at the brothels up and down Jebensstrasse that you've the smallest prick outside of the KGB. Now come on, you show me yours I'll show you mine. Plenty of information I can share, but if we're going to work together I should know your… skills."

He was sure he was laying on the innuendo thicker than he should, but he was warm from the drinks and the bodies, trying to ignore the hands brushing his arse in passing, sweat and alcohol on the air, close to Gascoine, but not quite touching. If Gascoine swayed or was nudged just a hairsbreadth forward he would press Percival against the bar. It was intoxicating, knowing that they were this close, but there was still too much uncertainty keeping them apart. Clear liquor was clearly one of Gascoine‘s vices, but he held out hope it wasn‘t the only one he‘d uncover. 

Percival blinked back into focus to find Gascoine making up a wild story about one of the couples across the way. He sipped from his drink to cover his distraction before rolling his eyes indignantly at Gascoine not even trying. Fine, if he wanted to play it that way. With Gascoine in tow, Percival couldn‘t take up any of the offers whispered in his ear or hinted at with hands and he's out of cigarettes so it was time to leave before he does something stupid. He downed the rest of his drink and huffed, "All right then, _Jimmy_ , since you're going to be childish, no treat for you just yet." He slung an arm over Gascoine's shoulder, gesturing toward the door with his chin. 

Gascoine nodded and slipped a hand around Percival's waist, the first real touch beyond handshakes. Despite himself, Percival felt himself lean into it. He might have become a bit more drunk than he'd meant to, keeping up with Gascoine.

Even drunk as they were, they made it back to Gascoine's flat in almost no time -- Gascoine's firm hand on Percival's waist keeping him from paying attention to anything other than the warmth of that broad palm through his shirt. At the door, they parted with a sarcastic dig from Percival and a delightful string of epithets about Percival's mother _auf Deutsch_ from Gascoine, and an appointment to check in made for a few days, and Percival wove his way back to his flat. He had just enough presence of mind and muscle memory to check and reset his perimeter markers at his doors and windows before stripping off and collapsing into bed. 

Percival's eyes fell closed as he ran the evening over in his mind, trying not to be distracted by the heat under his skin as he catalogued how impenetrable Gascoine's demeanor had been, even in the middle of a fucking deviant bar. But the thought of that cool indifference looking down on him as he knelt, his mouth open and just waiting for instructions… Percival's hand curled around his prick, just slowly stroking himself over the idea of it. It was so easy to let his mind run free, to imagine the way Gascoine's stupid floppy public school hair would look when it was sweaty and mussed, how that calm demeanor would break as he fucked Percival into the floor, into the mattress, in the alley behind the club….

Percival came with a strangled groan, come hot on his skin, and it took him a moment to lose the soft high of orgasm to frustration. He didn‘t have time for this distraction, couldn‘t let himself think about what-ifs when there was work to do. He reached around for his pants to scrub his skin clean before rolling over to fall asleep. 

His dreams were filled with leather and neon.

 

Percival wrote the whole exercise off as a wash, buried himself in paperwork and tried not to chainsmoke all of the Marbs in his contraband stock. At least the smell of the smoke covered up the lingering hints of perfume that hadn‘t been chased from the corners. It had been a few years since Berlin station had holed up in this abandoned brothel, but the ghosts still lingered. The reminder was unhelpful as he thought (tried not to think) about Gascoine. He likely wouldn't see the man for a few more days, and he was torn between being glad for the break and wishing their meeting was sooner.

Time passed like this for months; long stretches of flirting followed by nothing more than work. Percival started making regular trips to his favorite brothel again, if only to give his hand a fucking rest. Gascoine learned Percival's network quickly, even made a few new inroads with contacts that Percival hadn't been able to crack, and generally excelled. Percival made an occasional joke about Gascoine trying to run him out but never with more than a hint of irritation behind it, more turned on by the competency than truly frustrated. This was Percival's city, after all, and if someone threatened the balance, he would take care of it.

 

After long enough, Percival did start feeling cooped up and thought it would be good to take advantage of a beautiful autumn to venture out to the countryside to do a bit of practice shooting. One of the retired BER-1s owed Percival a favor and happened to have a hunting lodge previously liberated from an informant that had outlived his usefulness. A long weekend in the country would be just the thing. 

 

The line of Gascoine's… of _James's_ body in silhouette, shotgun lifted as he sighted a hare made David think of a dancer. He was an idiot for thinking this was a smart idea, but they were here now, and he doesn't flinch as James downed the animal in one shot. He lit a cigarette and tossed a haphazard salute James's way instead when he cracked the shotgun to reload it. Shooting bottles and targets was all well and fine, but at least out of this would come dinner.

"At least I'll never know if you're coming if you decide to shoot me. Should have brought a real rifle, then we could have tried for distance with the loser having to sleep on the sofa. Guess we'll just have to box like gentlemen." He held up his fists and jutted out his lower jaw, assuming a suitably pugilistic stance for a moment before dropping his fists again as James came closer.

It was a simple gesture, James plucking David's cigarette from his lips and bringing it to his own mouth to inhale deeply, but it made David's eyes immediately drop to James's mouth. Without even realizing he was doing so, David ran his tongue along his bottom lip, catching himself only when James grinned. He shifted and looked away as he felt his cock start to take an interest. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see James was looking him over as he smoked the cigarette in long pulls. Finally seeming to make a decision, he dropped the butt and ground it into the dirt with his toe, before closing the last distance between them. James pulled David towards him with two fists in his jacket and crushed his mouth to David's, chuckling deep in his throat at the way David collapsed into him. The bugger had the advantage of his height, and he used it, and David‘s sudden pliancy, to bully David back into the bedroom

"Patience has never been your strong suit, hmm?" He growled as he walked them through the cabin. “You've waited this long, what's another few minutes or an hour even? You've wanted this since I stepped off the plane, but never pushed too hard. Guess I just have to take the lead in this dance." James pushed David down to sit on the bed, slipping the small switchblade from the waistband of his trousers and flicking the blade out. He hooked the top button of David's shirt with the knifeblade and popped it off easily. His hand was close enough to David‘s chest that he must have been able to feel the way his heart was racing, feel the puff of air across the back of his hand as David exhaled on a bit of a moan.

James gestured with the blade for David to move, and looked almost surprised when he immediately complied. Feeling a hot flush rise high on his cheeks, David sprawled across the bed, spreading himself out for James to do with as he would. After all this time relentlessly pursuing this, there was a complete lack of fear in David, making it easy to give himself over entirely to James. 

Seeming smugly pleased to be given the reins so unquestioningly, James was just as careful with the knife as the gun, taking his time to cut each button off David's shirt and jeans, getting a string of expletives in response to the jeans.

"Yes, yes, your precious contraband. You'll get more soon enough, I'm sure. I know I‘m not the only man to get between your legs, splay you out and have you." He spread David's shirt open, eying the undershirt for a moment like he knew exactly what he wanted to do, but slipping the blade back into the handle instead. "If you're not sure, you can say no, yeah? I've always enjoyed my partners as enthusiastic, just…"

"Shut up and get on with fucking me or I'll wrestle that knife from your hand and drive it through my ear so I don't have to listen to you--"

David cut off at the _snick_ of the blade extending again as James grabbed ahold of his undershirt. The blade cut through the cheap cotton easily, too easily, and a taste of the blade skipped across David's skin. He gasped, trying to arch away, though admittedly not too hard, but James closed the blade and threw it away, using his hands to tear the shirt the rest of the way.

Without the blade in play, David brought his hands up to push at James's clothes, scraping his nails along James's chest as he rucked his shirt up, wanting to touch and be touched. Enough of this fucking _teasing_ , he wanted to move things along, to to push them forward, but James just laughed and pulls his hands away, pinning his wrists to the bed. 

"I'd rather take my time, if it's all the same to you," he laughed. “Now, did you bring anything in the service of your quest or will I have to be absolutely terrible and force you to wait?" David grumbled at that and tugged at James's firm hold, but relented when it was unyielding. He nodded towards their bags. 

James let go of David's wrists and patted him on the cheek. "Good lad."

David clenched his fists, wanting to scream, but instead took the opportunity to push all of his clothing off and try to arrange himself in some enticing way that would facilitate getting past all these games to sex. It all seemed for naught, though, when James returned to the bed having only shed his shirt and unbuttoned his trousers, entirely too clothed, in David's opinion. There was a sound of metal hitting wood, and David hadn't even realized that James had scooped up the switchblade until he‘d set it on the side table, but now couldn‘t stop thinking about the possibilities. James made a show of setting the condoms on the side table next, raising his eyebrow at the number of them, but kept the bottle of lubricant to hand.

"High hopes, I see." James grinned down at David, not yet getting on the bed with him. The man‘s calm and easy demeanor had started to fall away, hunger and a want to have control written in every line of James's body. He ran his fingertips along a few old scars on David's chest, so faded they were nearly invisible, then dragged them across the drying blood from the nicks of the knife. His touch disturbed the places where it's started to scab, sending a delicious shiver of pain over David‘s skin and leaving fresh red smears on his chest. James let his fingernails catch and made the cuts open more as though encouraged by his gasp, as though he wanted to mark David, too.

"Open up, then, make me want to take you, claim you, make a mess out of you." James pressed two fingertips to David's lips, leaving a little smear of red before David opened his mouth to let James fuck into it with his fingers. Christ, James barely had to snap his fingers and he was putty in the man‘s hands. James replaced his fingers with his mouth and kissed him deeply, the taste of copper on their mouths, and pinned David's wrists to the mattress. David was nearly hard beneath him, already lost as James sat up and looked him over as he toyed with the bottle of lubricant. 

"Anything I should know before I plan to fuck you, sir? Any last orders as head of station?" James grinned, his words dripping with insouciance. He looked like he planned to disregard any orders David might try to give, and his grin just widened when all David managed to get out in response was a strangled noise of frustration. "Very well, your comments have been noted."

James handily flipped David over and arranged David on the bed to be exactly how he wanted him, pushing his hands up to the headboard and curling his fingers around the ironwork. With his knees bent and pushed apart keeping his arse high and splayed wide open, David knew how he must look, entirely on display for his subordinate. James leaned in and whispered in his ear, letting his hands roam across the pale skin of David's arse, down to skim his nails across David's bollocks as he did. "If you let go, I'll stop, but if you hold on, if you want it, I'll fuck you until you scream. Fill you and use you. I'm in charge now, yeah?" 

David nodded, his breathing heavy and hitching. Apparently unsatisfied, James pinched David's inner thigh, and David yelped. "Yes, yes, all right, fucking yes. Whatever you want, just as long as you--" David cut off into a moan as cold and wet hit his skin and ran down his arse crack before James pushed it into him with two fingers. He was tight, he knew, and from the way James groaned as well at the penetration, it was clear he was thinking of having his cock inside of David as much as David was.

Still, the bastard took his time. David growled his frustration into the pillow as James worked him open, detailing exactly what he was going to do to David in an even and measured tone as he worked a third finger into him. That same damnable fucking patience, that same inscrutability, even when he had David exactly where he wanted him. He was going to break David down, make him beg and mean it, shatter his control and leave him an utter mess. 

James reached forward between David's legs, laughing low and taunting him with low, filthy words about how he could feel how much he wanted this as he gathered and smoothed David's precome back over his cock, slowly stroking him in rhythm with his thrusting fingers. David‘s control unravelled then, and he started babbling, begging for him to do more, but James carries on patiently, as though waiting for something else, something more. Getting desperate, David started rocking his hips, fucking himself back on James's fingers and then forward into James's hand. James stopped moving entirely at that, just holding still and letting David fuck himself for a bit before he abruptly his hands away. Though humiliated by his own need, by James stopping, by how bloody perfect that humiliation is, David can‘t stop a small sound of loss escaping him.

Staying still, hands still curled around the bed frame like a good little pet, David could hear James shift behind him, the rustle of the bedsheets as he wiped his hands on it, then the crinkle of a condom wrapper. Then the slick sound of James stroking himself, taking his time about it, obviously enjoying the view and David‘s mounting frustration. David's muscles flexed and he strained not to let go and touch himself as well, gritting his teeth. Finally, apparently feeling that David had waited long enough, James crowded up close to him and teased the head of his cock against David's wet hole. When David immediately started pushing back, James indulged him, let him slowly start fucking himself onto his cock. But the moment he was inside of David he pushed in hard, without warning. A corresponding moan was pushed from David, and he felt James grin against his shoulder in response. 

Immediately, James set a punishing pace, the metal bedframe protesting. James managed to grit out, "Touch yourself. Make yourself come, don't make me do all the work." 

David immediately complied, carefully uncurling one hand from the headboard, moaning and swearing as he jerked himself off. He knew he wasn‘t going to last long, but James growled and egged him on, like he wanted to be sure to feel David's orgasm before he came himself. "Come on, then, you've slutted around enough in this city, far from big brother keeping an eye on you, so you fuck who you like and do whatever you want. You're mine now, no one else, we're a fucking team, don't you forget that. _Mine_."

At that last growl, David's body clenched. Immediately, James reached around to cover David's cock, letting his release hit his palm hot and sticky. James pulled out quickly, skimming the condom off and jerking himself off with the handful of come, shooting his release over David's back. David's legs give out and he collapses face down, covered in James's come on the bed. He could hear James breathing hard, hear the grin in his voice. "Had to keep you from making a mess of the sheets, but didn't mean I couldn't make a mess out of you. Any one of your other… friends told you how gorgeous you look splayed out and used?"

Wanker. David moaned and managed to lift his hand to flip two fingers. "Anyone tell you you're an utter cunt cocktease and a bloody amazing shag?"

James laughed, patting David on the arse before climbing from the bed and gathering the ruined undershirt to wipe himself and David down. "First shower is yours, if you can get up. I'd say you deserve it, especially since you have to drive tomorrow, thinking about me fucking you the whole way and nothing you can do about it."

 

Everything felt different coming back to the city this time. It was just so much _more_ than the countryside, but all Percival could focus on is when next he could see Gascoine. He was distracted enough that he missed all the signs until he nearly fell over the man (who could only be a KGB agent, based on terrible haircut alone) drinking his fucking contraband and reading a file on his sofa. The man looked up and sighed at Percival standing there with a drawn gun. He dropped a file on the coffee table, and Percival caught a line of Cyrillic in his brief glance at it, not willing to take his eyes off the stranger for longer than that.

"Present for you, from someone interested in keeping the balance. Get settled back in, but don't take too much time, he won't wait forever." Slowly the man pulled his jacket open, keeping his hands clearly visible, and pulled a business card from an inside pocket with two fingers. He set the card down on top of the folder and walked out, confident Percival's curiosity would get the better of him. 

It was a simple black card with stark text: Central Cafe und Restaurant.


End file.
